Doula
by LadyDivine91
Summary: After Kurt discovers some serious, life-changing news, he goes to his ex for help preparing. Klaine Kurt H. Blaine A.
1. Doula

_**Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts bury/cinnamon, candle/camera. This has a twist ending, and it's sad. That's all the warning you're getting. Don't come at me if you take the risk and get upset.**_

"So we've decided on the music, the lighting, the bed sheets, the color of the walls, the temperature of the room, and foot and forehead massage. Is there anything else you can think of? A book you'd like to have read to you? Or flowers maybe?" Blaine asks, fingers templed beneath his chin.

Kurt scrunches his nose. "No. No flowers. Flowers are a little too … _tired_ in my opinion. But I would like some candles. Scented ones? Cinnamon and nutmeg, something that smells like a Christmas cookie, cuz, you know, tis the season."

Kurt laughs at his attempt at a joke. But as at ease as he looks, it sounds forced.

"Of course," Blaine says, as if every choice Kurt makes isn't driving hooks into his soul. It's bad enough this is happening to Kurt in the first place, but happening at _Christmas_? Blaine can't even begin to fathom what that must feel like.

Blaine knows what it feels like for _him_.

It makes him want to rip his heart out of his own chest. It would be less painful than this.

Kurt opens his mouth to speak, another witty remark by the sparkle in his eyes, but despite that, his voice comes out reed thin. "And no cameras." Kurt chuckles to cover clearing the pins and needles from his throat. "The paparazzi have already had their fair share of field days with me. I can't imagine what they'd do with this."

"No cameras. Promise." Blaine watches Kurt go back over the room, running his fingers over fabric swatches on the bed, taking a second glance at the paint samples on the wall. They're doing a complete renovation, from the lights on the ceiling to the finish on the wood floor. Kurt made it big on Broadway right out of high school, but designing has always been his passion. On the road the way he's been, he hasn't had much time to redecorate.

As they say, no time like the present.

Kurt wraps his arms around his waist as he goes over the details, his face pinched with discomfort. There's conflict within him (along with other things). On the outside, he's a façade of calm, peace. But inside he must be screaming.

Blaine takes a deep breath to steady his stomach. The best thing he can do for Kurt is help him maintain the calm, make his insides match his outsides.

He fails before he starts.

"Have you thought about where you want to be …?" Blaine can't finish that sentence. As professional as he is, having planned this same event for so many other people, he can't rely on professionalism now. Because Kurt isn't just any other person. He's the person Blaine has loved for so damned long. He's the person Blaine still loves, and always will.

Till death do they part.

That was their original deal, but it didn't turn out that way.

It took over a decade for Blaine to get over losing Kurt to his career, but he'll never get over losing Kurt like this.

"Buried?" Kurt finishes with a sad smile. "At Forest Lawn. Between my mother and father."

Blaine nods, cursing himself for not being better than this, not being stronger. A week ago, Kurt called Blaine with the news.

Stomach cancer.

After years of keeping a super close eye on his blood pressure, his cholesterol, and his prostate, _this_ he did not see coming. Kurt said he started Googling death doulas the second he left his oncologist's office. Blaine's name was the first one that popped up, and he took it as a sign. Because regardless of where their lives have taken them, they swore they'd be there for one another.

It might be a tall order, all things considered, but Kurt was calling that promise in now.

"Oh, Blaine." Kurt walks over, puts an arm around Blaine's shoulders, and just like that, years after their last goodbye, Kurt is comforting _him_ when it's literally Blaine's job. And Kurt is good at it. Where Blaine is concerned, he always was. "I know that after we broke up, things got a little rough. And I'm sorry I didn't keep in better touch than Christmas and birthday cards. But I'm so glad you're willing to do this for me." Blaine's head drops at the sound of Kurt's acceptance. He can't help it. He should be holding it high, but his neck can't seem to bear the weight. He thought he'd cried himself dry over this. Again, he was wrong. Kurt ducks his eyes to catch Blaine's, shimmering with tears. "No matter how it ended, no matter how long it's been, you're the best friend I have in the entire world. You know me better than anyone alive. How could I die without you?"


	2. Comfort

_**Summary:** **When Kurt finds out he's dying of stomach cancer, he calls in a favor with his ex, asking him to be his death doula. But now that they've reconnected, he has another favor to ask ... one of a more intimate nature.**_

 _ **Notes:** **Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble 2018 prompt feed, but also athlete, paper, exclude, and ribbon.**_

"G-god …" Kurt moans, voice rough from panting hard past drying tears. "I think … I almost forgot what that felt like."

"Yeah," Blaine agrees. "It's … it's been a while."

Blaine hovers on his hands and knees, careful not to put too much weight on Kurt's body. Without Blaine's heat, Kurt shudders. Blaine covers him quickly with his comforter.

"You mean in general, or with me?" Kurt teases, but as with all of his teasing, it comes with a plea.

 _Please_.

 _Please tell me I meant something._

 _Please tell me I still do._

 _Please tell me that, when I'm gone, there will be one person left alive who will remember me for the person I was, not just the actor._

 _Tell me there is someone who will love him._

"Both," Blaine teases back, keeping Kurt in the dark. Though Kurt would have to be blind not to know how Blaine feels, how much he still loves him after all these years.

What they're doing isn't written in Kurt's directives. They didn't agree on this during his consultation. This is a favor - another one Kurt is cashing in. He didn't know whether Blaine would agree to it.

He didn't know whether or not it was fair for him to ask.

Kurt had considered hiring a sex worker who specializes in intimacy with terminally ill clients. He'd gotten the phone number from his agent of a guy in New York who did that sort of thing. But Kurt couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't invite a stranger into his pain. He didn't want someone he didn't know caring for him, silently judging him … or pitying him.

But he needed physical contact. He needed his fill of it, to lift him past the sadness that was shredding him to ribbons.

Before tonight, it had been over a year since Kurt had last slept with another man. For Blaine, six months.

Kurt called, stumbling over apologies, awkwardly explaining his plight, asking Blaine if there was any way he'd be willing. Blaine didn't think twice. Blaine promised to make love to Kurt as often as he wanted.

He wasn't going to make Kurt beg for something that belonged to him all along.

Blaine tucks Kurt beneath more blankets in an effort to stop his shivering, but it seems inescapable. He rubs Kurt's back in the hopes that gentle friction will help warm him up. Kurt curls forward, exposing his back to Blaine's hands but nothing else. He doesn't like revealing his naked body. He had asked Blaine to make love to him from behind so that Blaine wouldn't see how badly the cancer, and the treatments he endures, have begun to affect him.

Blaine offered to let Kurt top him, but Kurt was afraid he wouldn't have the strength.

Kurt's hair, which he prided himself on, has started coming out. His muscle tone is beginning to fade. Sooner than later, his athletic physique will begin to melt, and his already alabaster skin will become paper-thin. He barely eats. Blaine tries to feed him, brings Kurt something new at every session (since Kurt doesn't want to call what they're doing a date). Once upon a time, Kurt loved Blaine's cooking. Kurt takes a polite bite when offered, but he doesn't have an appetite. The only thing Blaine has seen Kurt put away is a cheesecake.

But Blaine suspects he was eating his emotions more than the food.

There will come a time when making love will hurt too much. Blaine hopes that when that day comes, Kurt won't decide to exclude him from what remains of his life. And if he does, Blaine hopes that what they've had during this short period of time, being Kurt-and-Blaine again, will give Kurt a small measure of comfort.


	3. Escape

**Kurt has another request for Blaine ... one that may change the scope of their whole relationship thus far.**

 _ **Notes:** **Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts gradual/star, and home/gift. There are others in there, too.**_

"G-go on vacation with me?"

"Hmm?" Blaine isn't certain he heard Kurt speak. He'd been concentrating so hard on massaging Kurt's legs - gradually inching his way from his left calf to his thigh, focusing on where his hands touched, with what amount of pressure … reflecting on how that skin felt against his lips minutes ago … that the words didn't quite make sense.

"Go on vacation with me," Kurt repeats. "Oh … unless your schedule is packed or something. I don't know how busy you are, being a doula."

"Being a doula doesn't really take up too much of my time. It's more of a side gig than a career," Blaine explains, grabbing his bottle of massage lotion so he can start on Kurt's right leg. "I'm still kind of finding myself. Luckily, I'm one of those fortunate few who doesn't have to work, so it gives me plenty of time to explore."

"Why is that?" Kurt asks, and bites his tongue immediately after. _Shoot_! He'd been so relaxed, he only asked to make small talk. He didn't intend on being so thoughtless.

"I haven't blown through my inheritance yet. Luck-y me."

"Oh, Blaine …" Kurt looks back over his shoulder at Blaine, rubbing oil on his hands and returning to his massage. He remembers when Blaine's parents died. They'd passed within a month of one another – his mom going first, then his dad when he realized he couldn't live without her. On the one month anniversary of his wife's death, he simply died in his sleep.

An undiagnosed cardiomyopathy.

In layman's terms, a broken heart.

Kurt had received word when he was on tour in Europe. He tried to get away, but he couldn't fly back to be there for Blaine. So he sent a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers to the funeral instead. It hadn't dawned on Kurt to feel too guilty at the time since Blaine was engaged.

When Kurt's father died the following year, Blaine was single again.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says. "I …"

"Kurt, considering your life right now, I'm not going to blame you if you don't remember every little detail of mine."

Kurt wants to object. He wants Blaine to know that he _does_ remember, because Blaine's life is important to him. Regardless of how he's acted over the past decade, it's always been important.

"I became a death doula because of them," Blaine continues. "Because of what I went through after they died. There was so much I didn't know about losing someone close to me until my mother passed away. My father wanted to take care of my mother himself, but everyone he talked to told him he couldn't. But it wasn't true. Watching how the funeral home handled it, how they talked to my father, what they tried to sell him on …" Kurt feels Blaine sigh, feels it seep into his skin. "It was disheartening, knowing that there are people in the world out to make a buck any way they can, and that funeral homes are no different. Having someone he loved more than life pass away, coming to them at his most vulnerable, those things didn't protect my dad. So, I took over. Did some research, and had everything handled at home the way my dad wanted. The only thing we paid for was a burial plot in a green cemetery. I refused to turn my mother over to a stranger who was going to charge me thousands of dollars for a giant, non-biodegradable box we were going to stick into the ground. My parents didn't want that."

"That must have been so difficult," Kurt says, remembering how he handled his father's funeral.

He didn't.

He wrote someone else a blank check and they did everything for him. No stress, no mess, and Kurt was grateful. It gave him the time he needed to focus on simply grieving the loss of his father. He didn't feel particularly swindled or pressured by the funeral home he hired. Then again, the directors of the funeral homes in Lima had all been friends of his father. They could have bent over backwards for Kurt because he was Burt Hummel's son.

But if that hadn't been the case, if Kurt wasn't wealthy or famous, would the experience have been the same?

"Dealing with the funeral industry was such an eye-opening experience. I knew there had to be other people who felt the same way I did, and I wanted to help spread awareness. But I didn't want to become a mortician or anything like that. That's when I decided that the best thing I could do would be to become a death doula. I took a course and now here I am. But I offer it as a service, only ask for what I need to cover expenses. Outside of my song writing, it gives my life purpose."

"That makes sense," Kurt says with a small smile. "It suits you."

"Does it?" Blaine scrunches his nose. _He_ thought it did. His brother and many of his friends seem to think it's morbid. Cool, but morbid. He's happy that Kurt approves, that it's not a turn off for him. But it sounds strange to hear Kurt say it.

"A-ha. You've always been compassionate and nurturing. I often thought that if you didn't become a musician, you might end up being a teacher."

"Yeah, well, the only school I ever taught at burned down, so right away, that's not a good sign."

Kurt stifles a chuckle. He'd forgotten all about that. Back when it happened, it seemed like the end of the world – Dalton Academy, the place where he and Blaine first met, dying by fire. Years later, he'd mark it as a metaphor for their relationship. A foreshadowing even. But now, it's simply a moment. One that they'd shared. A part of their history together.

And it felt good to remember it.

It would be nice to make a few new moments with Blaine.

"You know, Blaine, one good thing about being a star is that I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. Especially _my_ lifetime. And if I'm going to go, then I intend on using as much of it as I can to make sure that every minute is as memorable as possible. But it would be nice to have someone to share it with. And I know that we haven't been an 'us' in a long time. We … we don't even have to be an 'us'. We can just be two good friends, traveling around the world together."

Blaine slides forward, curling up beside Kurt. "I … I don't know. That sounds … I don't know how I would ever pay you back."

Kurt smirks. "Blaine, that is the _weirdest_ thing you could have said to me."

"I … I know. I just … I don't know what to say."

"Blaine …" Kurt reaches up and runs slightly trembling fingers through his hair "… do you know how many friends I have?"

Images of Kurt with his entourage flash through Blaine's head – the handsome men he's been connected with over the years, even if those rumors have never been confirmed. At least they got to exist in the same space as Kurt while Blaine watched from his sofa. So many times he wished he could be one of them, not necessarily as a love interest.

He just missed Kurt so damned much.

"If I had to venture a guess, I'd say a lot."

"A year ago, you'd be right. But the second everyone found out I had cancer, they all disappeared. And not one by one. En masse. People don't know how to handle cancer. They want to hide from it, like they're going to catch it. They don't know what to say to you when you have it so they bury you early and move on with their lives. I don't hold grudges against any of them. I really don't. I remember what it was like when my mom had cancer, what she went through. Watching her go through that was excruciating. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. So if it's better for them to distance themselves from me, then it's better for me, too. I don't want anyone resenting me. But I'm not at a point in my life where I want to make _new_ friends … and I don't think I can handle being alone."

Blaine nods. It's a thoughtful nod, but he remains quiet, and Kurt's heart sinks into his roiling stomach. He doesn't know what he thought Blaine would say after that. He had hoped he'd say yes, but that's a lot for Kurt to expect. Maybe this is too much. After all, what does Kurt really have to offer? If his oncologist is right, he has 5 years _maybe_.

5 years isn't a future. It's a sick and twisted joke.

"I know I'm asking a lot. I know I keep saying that, and then I ask for more. I know that this would mean the world to me, but that you're going to have to bear the burden of our memories when I'm gone. I'm sorry. I really am. The last thing I want is to hurt you. But our relationship, even with its flaws and imperfections, was the best of my entire life. In high school, you being with me was such a gift. It changed everything for me! My entire life! I've spent so much of the past ten years wondering how things would have been different if you and I stayed together. And I'm being selfish, asking you to play that out with me. I know what you must be thinking …"

"No," Blaine says, "I don't think you do."

"I do!" Kurt insists, tears filling his eyes. "Because I know what _I'd_ be thinking! _Who the hell does he think he is?_ and _Does he think he can get whatever he wants because he's dying?_ and _This was supposed to be one favor! I wasn't looking to get back together with the jerk who ditched me for Broadw-_ "

Blaine quiets Kurt with a kiss. It's not deep, not demanding, but it's enough to get Kurt's attention. Kurt sniffles as he kisses Blaine back, sure that this is Blaine's way of saying goodbye.

"I was just thinking," Blaine says, putting a hand on Kurt's cheek, tracing the trail of his tears with his thumb, "when did you want to start?"


End file.
